


Careful

by tastewithouttalent



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Crushes, First Kiss, Fluff, Hospitals, Injury, Inline with canon, M/M, No Plot/Plotless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-09
Updated: 2014-07-09
Packaged: 2018-02-06 08:43:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1851730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tastewithouttalent/pseuds/tastewithouttalent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Without the immediate pressure of injury and adrenaline Mikado is more tongue-tied around Kida than he is with Anri." Kida and Mikado have a moment after the conclusion of the gang war.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Careful

Kida’s been oddly quiet since Anri and Mikado arrived at his hospital room. It’s hard to keep a conversation going without him, Mikado finds, and the worse because Kida seems to have traded in chatter for watching the other boy. By Kida standards he’s being subtle, Mikado supposes, but by the time Anri dips her head and murmurs something about studying for a test Mikado has been maintaining a self-conscious blush for nearly twenty minutes and is nearly desperate enough to make an excuse himself. He’s getting to his feet, mumbling unintelligible agreement and preparing to follow Anri, when Kida speaks up.

“Mikado, can you stay a little longer? As long as the object of our mutual adoration doesn’t mind walking home herself.” Anri ducks her head, shakes her dark hair in negation, and Mikado drops back to his chair, wishing he didn’t feel quite so much like he just received a death sentence. It’s silly, after all, he knows Kida, Kida is his best friend. But they haven’t spoken in weeks, not  _really_ , and without the immediate pressure of injury and adrenaline Mikado is more tongue-tied around the blond than he is with Anri. At least with Anri it makes  _sense_  to be nervous.

There’s a touch against his shoulder; it’s not until Mikado looks up that he realizes it was meant to be a playful punch, that Kida is giving him a grin that is clearly supposed to be teasing, although it doesn’t entirely eclipse the shadow in his friend’s eyes.

“You afraid of me now that I turned out to be a deadly gang leader?” Kida teases him. His voice is weak and a little shaky, but there’s an attempt at humor under the words. “Not very sporting of you, Mikado.” He shifts his arms to tuck his hands behind his head, moving carefully in consideration of the IV needle at his elbow. “I can’t stand hypocrites, you should know. If that’s how it’s going to be, it may need to be over between us.” Kida feigns a choked sob, but there’s an edge of real concern under his words, somewhere behind the teasing and the nearly-meaningless patter of his words, that makes Mikado speak fast to reassure him.

“No. Of course not.”

“You’re not scared of me?” Kida demands. He unfolds his arms, leans forward on the bed until he’s close enough that Mikado can see the texture of his dark eyelashes. “I’m hurt, your underestimation has crushed my self-confidence. I may never recover.”

Mikado laughs. It feels like the first time he’s laughed in days, maybe the first time he’s  _ever_  laughed at Kida’s dramatics. “You’re not all that intimidating.”

“Far more of a concern is our well-endowed friend, right?” Kida’s arm comes around Mikado’s shoulders; it feels almost normal but for the press of the IV tube through Mikado’s shirt. Then Kida leans in even closer, close enough that his forehead bumps against Mikado’s, and even the bandage wrapped around his head can’t take away the easy familiarity of that. “Tell me truly, Mikado. You like her, don’t you?”

Mikado laughs again, this time a nervous edge of self-consciousness instead of sincere amusement. “Kida, you know, I’ve told you.” He starts to lean away but Kida holds him still, keeps staring into his face.

“Tell me again. One more time.” Kida’s eyes are bronze this close, gold and dark with intensity Mikado doesn’t entirely follow. “Once more, and I’ll stop asking. I swear.”

He sounds genuine, though Mikado doesn’t know why he should. It’s not like he cares that much himself, it’s not like Kida’s ever cared before. But it doesn’t matter, really, and Kida seems to care now, at least, and there’s that IV line at Mikado’s shoulders reminding him of the fate Kida only narrowly escaped.

“Okay,” he says, and he has to clear his throat to push away the pressure of emotion so Kida won’t think he’s crying about Anri. “Yes, I like Anri.”

“Of course you do.” Kida’s fingers dig in against Mikado’s neck, hard and desperate for just a moment, and then they’ve gone slack, Kida’s leaning back and away and smiling in a way that would look almost sincere, if Mikado wasn’t watching his eyes. “It’s my bad luck to be in a love triangle with my best friend,” Kida sighs dramatically, tipping his head back in a way that would toss his hair were the strands not pinned down by his bandage. “Only one thing to do, then.” His shoulders straighten, his face falls into uncharacteristic lines of determination. It’s almost a perfect act except that his mouth is shaking with amusement. “We will never speak of this again, Mikado,” he starts.

Mikado is still waiting for the rest of the sentence, whatever grand declaration Kida has to make, when the other boy leans in towards him and presses his lips to the other boy’s.

Everything happens very suddenly and very, very slowly. Mikado barely has time to realize what’s happening, to catch up that  _this_  is Kida’s grand declaration, before the blond is pulling away, but he has plenty of time to notice the tension in the fingers against his neck, to memorize how soft Kida’s mouth is under his, to think  _this is not what I expected from my first kiss_. Then Kida’s moving away, leaning back against his pillows and letting Mikado’s neck go, and when he tips his head to look fixedly out the window Mikado can almost not see the continued tremble of his mouth, the shake that isn’t amusement after all.

“Oh,” Mikado says.

“You should probably run along home,” Kida says, too fast and too high and without looking at Mikado. “It’s getting late, you know, and Anri can protect herself but I do worry about you. The Internet isn’t the same as reality, I’m not sure you realize that, my naive friend.”

“Kida.”

“And you have a test to study for, right? Or is that just a cover so you can take advantage of my absence to go and pick up girls? That’s it, isn’t it? You’ll use Anri to lure them in and then make your move before they ever know that they have other options like me.”

“Kida, stop.”

“I’ll get you back for it once I’m out of here, you’ll see, as soon as your girlfriends see me they’ll --”

Mikado is on his feet, body caught in the same mad impulsive recklessness that sent that first mass text to the Dollars. Kida’s still not looking at him, that’s no good, Kida needs to  _see_  him, and when Mikado reaches out to touch the other boy’s face Kida jumps like he’s been shocked and turns instinctively in. That’s good, that’s what Mikado needs, and he only barely notices the shine of liquid in Kida’s eyes before his mouth is back against the blond’s.

It’s slower, this time. Kida makes a whining noise that might be surprise and might be encouragement but certainly isn’t protest, and Mikado remembers about the IV in Kida’s arm, tries to aim for safer contact points and ends up holding the blond’s shoulder and his far wrist, just for the sake of contact. Kida doesn’t move, either to lift his hands or shift under the pressure of Mikado’s touch, just goes perfectly still against the friction of the other boy’s mouth.

Mikado pulls back after a moment but doesn’t move his hands, keeps his weight slanted over the bed so he’s leaning into Kida’s personal space. The blond blinks at him, his lips slightly parted and face as utterly blank as Mikado has ever seen it.

“You didn’t ask me how I felt about you,” he manages after what feels like an eternity of staring into Kida’s eyes.

“I said we’d never speak of this again,” Kida says, faintly, like he’s an echo of the person he was seconds ago.

“But --”

“You don’t have to talk,” Kida says, so fast the words tangle on his tongue. “Be careful of my arm.” Then he’s back in, moving as fast as Mikado is so their teeth click together before Kida pulls back and giggles before leaning back in, more slowly this time.

Kida’s done this before, that much is obvious once he recovers himself enough to start moving. Mikado hadn’t thought the details through before, but Kida tips his head and moves his mouth, brings up his free arm to slide his fingers in against the short-cropped hair at the back of Mikado’s neck, and when he parts his lips Mikado echoes him after a moment, opens up the whole new sensation of Kida’s tongue careful against his lips and mouth. The blond is more gentle than Mikado expected him to be, or would have expected if he had any conception that this was a possibility in the reality of his life, and his hair is softer too, when the other boy tentatively slides the hand lingering on the blond’s shoulder to the back of Kida’s neck to brush against it. His skin is warm, his lips are soft, and when Mikado’s thumb touches against the back of his ear Kida shifts and laughs without pulling away, mumbles “That tickles,” against Mikado’s mouth before going back to kissing him.

It’s some minutes again before either of them speaks, and it turns out to be Mikado’s fault. He is thinking of Kida’s bandage, and the needle in his arm, but it’s hard to keep track of where the other boy’s limbs are, and when Kida’s fingers push up under the edge of his shirt he jerks, moves an elbow and clips the blond’s arm so Kida hisses and jerks back.

“Ah, sorry!” Mikado blurts, reaching out instinctively to touch before realizing that that won’t help anything and snatching his hand back.

Kida is grimacing in pain, shifting his arm to rest flat on the bed, but then he looks back at Mikado and his eyes are sparkling with joy well before he smiles. “I didn’t picture myself in the hospital while teaching you how to kiss.”

Mikado flushes scarlet with apology and embarrassment both and Kida reaches out with his free arm to touch the inside of his elbow, curl his fingers around the other boy’s wrist. “I always imagined more of...my place, on a futon, maybe you begging me to practice with you before you went to try it out on Anri.”

Mikado makes a helpless noise, too hazy with the collapse of multiple assumptions to offer any coherency.

Kida tips his head back against the wall, lets his smile get wider. “It’s okay, you know. That you love her. I love her too. And Saki, and Mika, and a whole long list of girls.” He tips his head and the sunlight coming in the window catches his hair and eyes and matches them for a moment. “I just want to be on your list. Like you’re on mine.”

“Oh,” Mikado manages. “ _Oh_.”

Kida’s eyelashes catch the sun when he blinks, the moisture on his lips shines when he smiles. “It is a shame that I can’t truly corrupt you in this setting --” there’s another catch there, a crack in his facade of expertise. “But we should make the best we can of the situation.”

“Should we?” Mikado asks, feeling as lost as he did that first day in Ikebukuro.

Kida’s laugh sounds like sunshine. “Kiss me again, you idiot.”

Mikado’s more careful, the second time, at least until he forgets again. Kida doesn’t seem to mind.


End file.
